Che Cosa Avete
by inferi
Summary: This is the tragic past of the soul collector Jack Ferriman. The events of his human life are shown now through the P.O.V. of the soul collector himself! [Finished] R:R!
1. Parte Uno: Vita Come La Corruzione Comi

"Che Cosa Avete Avuti Nella Vita, Segue Nella Morte"  
  
By April Dominello  
  
Parte Uno: Vita; Come La Corruzione Comincia  
  
I was corrupted from day one, a sinner from the start and you know what, I don't feel any regret or shame at all. They say no one could love what the devil made, that God banned me and cast me among the demons. Was I so screwed over that my family couldn't love me for who I was? Well, fuck them then. Maybe that's a reason I became who I am today.  
  
Let's start from when I was brought into this hateful world, when I was thought to be pure, though we all grow into sinners sooner or later. A stormy, dreadful night is when I was conceived; the time was the late 1930's. My mother went into labor without warning and suddenly had become ill because of it. At home, in the 1930's, doctors would come to you instead of you coming to them. They've become lazy in the present days. My bastard father seemed to care about my poor mother, as she gave birth to me.  
  
I had ruptured her stomach, they say, and caused internal bleeding. I had killed my own mother. Maybe the only person who would have truly loved me. I was told I didn't cry when I came out. This child's fate was death; I was the cursed baby whose life would be tormented forever. So what happened now, who would care for me? Not my father, he couldn't take the responsibility. Thus I was sent to his younger sister; my auntie.  
  
This family was even more fucked up then what my past family could have been. My aunt would drink all the goddamned time, and leave her four kids to fend for themselves. The eldest, who was fourteen, was our mother figure, as she would take care of us as though we were her own children. No one complained when strangers came into the house, or when we heard strange noises in the bedroom. We knew what she was doing, but kept our mouths shut. She was a fucking whore.  
  
I lived with them for twelve years, twelve painful years of my life. I was always looked down upon by everybody. I was the weird child, the one who killed his own mother, and always got into fights with others. I had no friends, sort of say, so I took my interest in animals, but it's not that happy go lucky type. I'd torture them with great glee, because you know what, they weren't fucking human and I could get away with it. I sucked in school as well, because I just didn't give a damn about learning English and pointless History. I never paid attention in class, got bad grades, and beat the shit out of everyone who got in my way.  
  
Even my family treated me unfairly. Ever since I can remember, they had always been saying hurtful things to me and I grew with it my entire life. The eldest son, who was about fifteen at the time, was the worst when it came to teasing me, and he got on my nerves big time one day. We were in the kitchen and that asshole kept pushing me and calling me the 'Devil's child," saying I ruined other's lives. In uncontrollable frustration, I pick up a steak knife and rammed it into his side, a sickeningly sweet sound of metal going into flesh.  
  
The thick crimson blood flowing out of his body and onto the floor turns me on. As it seeps onto my hand, I enjoy the pain that he is feeling. God! I'm fucked up royally. I felt invincible from my cousin's taunts and everything seemed as though I'd never be hurt again. Just a simple stab cured all my problems. I gave him a wicked smile, blood soaked on my hands, and pulled out the blade. Words cannot express the sight I saw, the feelings I felt when I heard the steel emerge from the skin, causing an almost thick like sucking sound.  
  
My cousin's brown eyes showed no emotion, as he collapsed on the floor. I thought I'd killed him for sure. Good! Stupid fucker shouldn't have screwed with me from the start. That's when the whore came home. His mother, out of all people, happened to walk into the room just as he went down. Screaming and crying, she grabbed me by my hair and practically dragged me across the floor, only to throw me into the basement cellar. I didn't even get a chance to fight back. I would have killed her, just like I did her son. I was angry with her, at the family, hell and even the whole damn world.  
  
I had some time to think about what I did that day, and those hours grew into days. Was she planning on starving me to death, or just torturing me? I went without food or water and slept most of the time, until I lost track of the days. My aunt had officially disowned me. I didn't even try to escape once while down there. I had no where to go, and my life was over; I had nothing to look forward to. I was an outcast and it thrilled me.  
  
My cousin surprisingly lived, but he'd never be the same again. I crippled him, he'd limp for the rest of his life. I can't recall when I did see the light again, but who I saw coming to get me, did not make my day. The light actually hurt me this time, as I wanted to stay covered by the darkness, stay in the everlasting blackness. My aunt had called the police on me and they'd come to take me away from this house. As I'm being hauled out, I see my aunt's now eight children gawk at me, my almost dead cousin on the couch, bleeding, as doctors attend to him.  
  
I laugh at their pity. "Fuck you all! Your all dead to me!" I yelled as the cops took me away.  
  
Where do they take me exactly? Well, anyplace that a demented, young boy like myself would be dragged into; jail. But it wasn't exactly jail, because I was too young at the time to be there for life, it was a jail for delinquent boys. Many people believe that places like these will help out troubled kids, and to most, it did work, but I knew their trick, I looked passed it. I ignored the messages that they were giving the kids, and never gave into the advice. I was too far into the reaches of hell to be saved.  
  
I went along with it, pretending to take it all in, pretending that I was understanding my faults. Those idiots actually believed I had changed. After a year of putting up with this bullshit, I was able to go home. But I had no home, or so I thought. Out of all people, my father came to take full care of me. It had been twelve years since I'd seen him and I didn't care either way, but I was glad that I wouldn't be on the streets or in that brain-washing hell forever.  
  
Traveling to my father's house required us to go across the sea on boat. I'd never seen the ocean before and let me say that it was quite an experience. My aunt never had the time, or the effort to take her poor kids out to the sea, but once I saw it, I fell in love. It was everything I'd seen in pictures, or heard about, but the smell was something completely different. The salty air filling my nose and the windy breeze against my face; I was in heaven.  
  
I took quite a fond interest to the design of the ship in which we were traveling on. I had always liked how things worked or were made, so I took my time in studying the structure of the ship and everything that made it go. Sadly, this would be my first and only time on a boat for quite some time, I'd never had a chance to go back on one until my desperate escape.  
  
Years had passed, I was now seventeen and my high-school years were almost over. My father never knew, or cared what I'd be doing. He was too busy drinking, like his damn sister. He knew how I was in school, or so he thought, but he never took an interest in my personal life, which was for the better. My senior year, I dropped out of school, because it was my choice and found it to be quite dull, but that doesn't mean I still didn't communicate with the people there.  
  
In school, I never was the "Jock," or the "Popular" one, I classified with more of the loner type, or those who don't give a damn about anything. I was the rebel, the one who smoked, drank and got into a hell of a lot of trouble. Surprisingly, a lot of women had a thing for the bad boys and I abused it. I'd play cool around them and afterwards, ruin their reputation. Those poor girls had it coming to them.  
  
My father had always thought that my weekdays were filled with the school hours, but truth is, I was out partying and doing other stuff that wasn't exactly learning material. I thought I'd be safe from any of the lies that I told my father, but when the notice from my school came in, he was furious. I came home at the right time when school was out, he was sitting at the dinner table, drink in hand, paper in the other, with anger in his eyes.  
  
"What's wrong with you? Graduation was less than half a year away, how'd you fuck it up? You ruined your future."  
  
"I have no future," I yelled to him.  
  
"Oh that's right. I forgot, you're cursed," mockery in his voice.  
  
"Ever since I was born, I've been damned and I shall be like that forever."  
  
"You think God hates you, that he's disowned you?"  
  
"There is no God, only humiliation and pain in this world."  
  
My dad looks at me with sadness and anger and shoves me, hard. "Don't you ever disbelieve in him boy. If God's exiled you, then why has he given you food, shelter and a loving family?"  
  
I laugh. "Loving family? What your drunk ass, slut of a sister and her filthy trash kids?" I set him off, but keep going. "I've never had a family. This God of yours let mom die and none of you could have done anything about it."  
  
A bit of advice: Never piss off a father who is under the influence of alcohol, especially if he's a bit on the emotional side. "If she never conceived you, she'd live."  
  
Finally, my father said something to spark my energy and I spit right back in his face. "Yeah, I killed mom and you know what, I don't care anymore. I'm happy I murdered her."  
  
"Piece of ungrateful shit," he yells, punching me flat in my face.  
  
I guess I deserved that, thinking. I lick my lips, tasting the copper flavor of the warm, red liquid. "That's right, I killed mom and God let it happen. He cursed me for it and sent me to hell. This is my hell, and anyone who crosses my path, faces the same wrath as me."  
  
Something snapped inside of me when my father began punching at my body. It's not like this is the first time that he's beaten me though. I'd come home with bad grades, he'd be drunk and he decided to teach me a lesson. I would try to hide my report card, but he always seemed to find them, no matter where I put it. It wasn't illegal to beat your child back in the day, but the way he was doing it, sure as hell would've put him in jail.  
  
I put up a lot of my dad's shit while he was drunk, even when he wasn't, but I've just had about enough of his abuse. Since my cousin's attack, I was pretty calm when it came to violence, but once again, I led to the anger and frustration that I built up inside of me. "Get the fuck off of me," I yell, pushing my father back. I was standing up for myself.  
  
My father wouldn't have it. He came after me again, but this time I was prepared. I had a knife in my pocket and took it out so suddenly, he didn't see the silver blade, and I was too quick for him. My father stops moving after I jab into his chest and touches his wound, blood pouring onto it. I got him directly in the heart, and on my first try. I'd say that was a lucky shot. He tries speaking to me, but collapses, still alive. I stare, no emotion in my face, in my eyes. I'm glad it happened, I'm glad he fucking died.  
  
My father can't believe that his own son killed him, he had it coming to him though, and he deserved it. Now I was officially on my own, I had nowhere to go, I had a car, but no job, and no family, I was on the streets. After my dad was dead, I took everything of mine, as well as his, that I could carry into the car, and left. Time went by and I got jobs, but I slept in my car, and on the streets for most of the time. I'd travel around a lot, looking for work, anywhere that would accept me, but I had that habit of getting fired, or quitting. I just couldn't find any form of work that I enjoyed.  
  
I had been running around like this for a long time, five years to be exact. I was now twenty-three, and still insecure, but I was handling out pretty well for myself. But I made a mistake so great that it almost haunts me in a way now, it'll never leave my memories.  
  
I was still stealing in my days, little things, but enough to cause some havoc. Strange though, I never got caught once. It's weird how you can get away with so many things. I fucked up royally on this one though. I heard rumors of some gold being found nearby, but the only catch is that the Mafia, out of all people, had gotten a hold of it. No one knows how, but apparently they had a shit load of it. I was intrigued and one night, I snuck up to the warehouse with my car, snuck inside the place and found crates full of gold.  
  
I grabbed as much as I could carry, due to the fact that the gold was so damn heavy, but that's what second trips are for. I was only able to grab about three trips worth because that's when they came home. I heard the car pull up and then I knew it was my time to leave, but I wasn't quick enough. They saw me run into my car, they knew that I saw, and possibly, stole the gold. The youngest of the four came after me, the stupidest of them, gun flaying in his arms; he was about ready to shoot. The naive idiot didn't see my gun and took a bullet; I let the gun do the killing for me.  
  
I drove away with the gold in my car, now knowing I needed to get the fuck out of this city, possibly even the state. I was in major trouble. Staying up all night, I devised a plan, but came dead short. That is, until I was at the docks did my idea sparkle. A cruise ship, the "Lorelei," was docked for the night, currently taking passengers across the sea in the morning. I hadn't been on a boat since I was twelve, and this way seemed to be the only chance out, so I took it.  
  
Carefully, I snuck into the boat. Don't ask me how I did it. I have a way of getting around things I suppose, and was able to get on the ship. I grabbed as much gold as I could and hid my car, as for not to be seen by viewing eyes. That gold was fucking heavy and it took quite some time to get on the damn ship, but once I was on, I quickly ran down to the storage room and hid. Since I studied ships in my spare time, I knew quite well everything about them, including levels.  
  
I buried myself into some leftover luggage and other necessities, and slowly dozed off. I'm not sure how long I was asleep, but it was a pretty damn, long time. I woke to the sound of a low humming engine and the movement of the sea, we were out of that city. Secretly, I made it out of storage and onto the deck, smelling the salty air, God it felt good being on the water again. The sun was just setting and looking, I can barley make out the land that I had once lived. Goodbye Canada.  
  
I had left my problems behind me, time to start over, time to re-do what was my life. I was finally getting a fresh start. To bad that it didn't last as long as I wished. Men roughly brush pasted me, one actually punching me deep into my stomach. The pain sends me keeling over, but not able to heal, because those same men hold me by my arms, not letting me do anything. I hear a young voice asking what happened and if I'm okay. A gruff voice responds, "Just a little seasick." Apparently, no one saw a fight.  
  
I must've passed out because I don't recall anything until I focused my blurry eyes and shook off my headache. "Morning sunshine," that same voice spoke.  
  
"Who the fuck are you and what the fuck do you want?" I mumble.  
  
"Considering that you've killed my brother and stole our gold, I want your life for it."  
  
Ah shit. The fucking Mafia had found me and now I was screwed over big time. I thought that I'd never be found out, that I'd never get caught, but I was wrong and now I'd pay. "I only took a handful. Couldn't you spare some to some poor bastard," a plea to some extent. One of them steps up and speaks in a deep voice, "Your forgetting the fact that you killed one of our own."  
  
"Oh gee, I'm sorry if I was defending myself, but if he didn't get in the fucking way, he'd still be alive." I was such an asshole.  
  
I chose the wrong choice of words to say, because the next thing I felt utter pain in my thigh. The big brother jabbed me with a combat knife and those things hurt like hell. "Where'd you stash the gold? Tell us and you'll die quick."  
  
"I feel honored." Wrong again. He stabs me in my other leg. I wince, a silent cry in my mind, and smile up at him, almost enjoying the fact I was being tortured. I'd rather die slow and painfully, than give these men back their gold. "If you want it so bad, then why don't you get off your lazy ass and find it."  
  
He laughs at me, hating what I said. Leaning over my laying body, he reaches into my shirt pocket and takes out my cigarettes. "I'd like those back if you don't mind."  
  
"You don't need them where you're going," he speaks, stealing my lighter and singeing the butt.  
  
The duo returns with an anchor in their hands. It's silver and small, but sharp and heavy enough to cause damage to the human body. I knew what they had in store for me, so I ran for it. I quickly punched the fucker in the face and made a dash for it, running as fast as my bloodied legs could go, which was not far enough. Funny how the Mafia thought I was too weak to fight back, how they thought I'd just let them kill me. Complete and utter morons.  
  
I gave them quite a chase, even with my legs damaged, but it ended quite shortly. My legs grew weak, due to blood loss and I fell on the floor, surrounded in my own blood. I look behind me and see a trail of red leading up to me. The trio of men caught up to me and dragged me over to the rail, the sea below.  
  
"We could have ended this quickly, but you made it hard on yourself," the gruff voice speaks.  
  
"Couldn't die without a fight," I say, "besides, I've always had it hard," I smirk at them, seeing blood all over me now.  
  
My head is up now, as I'm standing erect, the duo holding my arms, keeping me up. The big brother holding the anchor. "Bon Voyage," he speaks evilly and jabs it deep into my left hip.  
  
The pain was unbearable and I felt like passing out right then, but I stayed awake and endured it all. Piercing pain, torment so great it was worse than being beat up. A small cry escapes my throat this time; I can't help keeping the pain inside. They let me go and I stand for a second, putting my head down. I see the hook and know that it's inside my stomach as well, blood practically gushing down onto the floor. The weight of the anchor, as well as the wound in my body was too much and I collapsed on my knees.  
  
It dug deeper into my insides, more pain jolting in my body. The blood was coming out too fast, the hole was too big and I grew dizzy. I was dying. My body knew it, and my mind knew it as well. It was over for me and I welcomed it. I was glad that my poor excuse for a life was to be over soon. No more fucking pain, no more suffering. If I wasn't too much of a pussy, I would have killed myself earlier, but funny thing is, I didn't believe in murdering myself and was waiting for someone to do it for me. This was my moment of rejoice.  
  
"How the fuck are we going to clean this mess up?" A new, plain voice speaks.  
  
"Dump the body in the sea and get to cleaning. Day break is hours away and we have to clean up all the blood before passengers suspect something," the gruff voice insists  
  
"No one's going to worry about this man anyway," the deep voices talk.  
  
I hear footsteps approach me. I'm breathing heavily, almost panting, I'm not dead yet. "Fuck!"  
  
"What now?"  
  
"He's still alive, barley."  
  
"Who fucking cares. The sea will finish him off. Stop complaining and just do it already."  
  
He sighs and a set of two hands lift me again. I can tell their having a hard time, due to the fact I've got a goddamn anchor in my body. They finally sprawl my body across the rail, my sight barley visible. Everything is a blur and I can hardly make out anything now, things are a shade of gray. Then I feel my body thrown over and I'm falling, the air whisking at my body. A small sting hits me, as I plunge into the water. The coldness and the dark comfort me.  
  
Now, I can't breathe, water filling my lungs. Doesn't matter to me now, I'll be dead soon. Everything grows numb, due to the temperature and the pain, I'm sinking now, and I can feel it. No ones ever going to find my body. The sea is thousands of feet deep and I'll be rotting at the bottom forever. People say that when you die, your whole life flashes before you, due to the fact that everything inside you is shutting down. Well, I had no flashes of my life, I had none to cherish from the start, so why should I remember.  
  
I saw no white light when I passed, everything just blacked out and it was over. But was it now, or was it just the beginning of a great opportunity? A chance to reclaim what I had in my pathetic life, or a chance to get away with murder?  
  
It was a deal with the devil. 


	2. Parte Due: La Cultura Dagli Errori De

Parte Due: La Cultura Dagli Errori Del Lorelei  
  
It wasn't like I suddenly appeared to this place after my death. It felt as though I'd woken up from a long dream. I would have gasped for air if I had any in my lungs and I just let out my emotions to this blank world. When my vision cleared, I was lying on the dark floor, soaking wet and still covered in my own blood. I knew I hadn't lived, how else would you explain the situation I am in now? I had no feeling in my body and all my senses were completely gone.  
  
Everything around me was dim; a gloomy mist filled the Grey room. I had no clue where the hell I was, but then it came to me. Purgatory. That had to be it. I saw my own special hell. Getting up, I noticed the hook was still intact with me, but I hadn't breathed since I plunged into the sea. Hearing the words of something dark and sinister come my way, I look up into what little light there was. The harsh voice offered me a great opportunity not to be forgotten and I had no clue what it wanted with me. Everything was laid out on a silver platter just then.  
  
'Management,' as I like to call it, offered me a job. A job of chaos, destruction, and murder. I was skeptical but found out I'd never get caught for killing thousands of people and would never die. It'd be fun and I greatly agreed to it. Come on, if you had the chance to destroy lives with one touch of a finger, never getting caught, you'd greatly agree to do it. Everyone has evil in them, and this thing brings out the true purpose for people like me.  
  
I was told it's true intent then, the reason why I was picked. This demon wanted to be more powerful than God and Satan combined and it needed the help of a sinner, someone like me. 'Management' was trapped in it's own prison, unable to leave the seal in which it was condemned in, but with a fresh death, it'd transfer the power to me. I had been watched upon since death and chosen to get the job done. It was an honor.  
  
'Management' got to me before hell could and I was saved from an eternity of torment and torture. My job was to collect 1,000 souls, sinner's souls, and keep them contained until they were brought over into the realm of the dead. It'd be no problem, because most people in this world are sinners, everyone's fucked.  
  
Once I filled my quota, the now, corrupted souls would be ferried off into 'Management's' world, the ectoplasm of the ghosts would then transfer into it and become greater and more powerful than anything ever seen or heard of. That means, my boss would be free to reign its destruction upon the Earth, the end of the world has come.  
  
But what was my deal after my job was successful? I wasn't told exactly the complete plan, but it promised something good, something I'd remember forever. Whatever happened to Earth was of no concern to me though, I was too fixated on getting my revenge to care what 'Management' had in store. I bet after all this time, you thought 'Management' was the Devil? I'm sorry to disappoint you, but the answer is no. You see, the Devil is the greatest evil in this world. Him asking for a little thing like me for help, is asking for a death wish. It's not possible.  
  
He could easily get the job done by himself, not wanting help from anyone, he's got his live followers for a collection. But you see, life is the ultimate suffering and death is the easy way out, as he feels humanity is worse than being dead. You're lucky if you haven't sinned in your life, because you'd end up in a better place. But for people like me, be glad 'Management' got to you first. Finishing the instructions I was given, my boss told me I'd wake up a different person. Not also physically, but mentally as well.  
  
Growing bored of its intentions, I started drifting off into my own little world, thinking of how I would murder tons of victims. Hearing the strangest sound erupt in my ears, I almost keeled over in pain, that bastard was starting the process, and I wasn't even ready. Growing dizzy and hurtful, I put my bloodied hands on my head, not wanting to feel my resurrection. Body starting to tingle I began shaking, nauseated by the sensation of my re-birth. Everything blacked out then.  
  
Jolting up, I screamed in shock, now knowing what I'd become, the power I had been given. Information built up inside of me as though I was born with it. No question of what or how, I was ready for the first day on the job. I could feel again. I breathed, blinked, and talked like any other normal being, but I wasn't normal anymore. I was dead on the inside, but alive on the outside. It's the strangest feeling you'll ever sense in your very existence.  
  
I still felt sick, a headache cascading through my brain. I smelt blood and tasted sins. All around me, death had implanted itself into my very body. Figures flew into my sight, a black and white movie showing into my eyes. I could see the lives of those who had done wrong, felt the fear they made while making these sins, some loving it, most hating what they did. It excited me.  
  
I look at my body first, seeing no blood and no anchor wedged into my flesh. It felt good to look normal, even after what I'd been through. My hopes went down when I raised my shirt, a small scar had been placed where my wound once was. A scar in the shape of a backwards anchor. I was 'marked.' One of my boss' employees, forever. Ignoring the truth, I scanned the surrounding, realizing I was in storage once again. The same storage room onboard the "Lorelei," the boat where I died.  
  
It brought back memories of my death and it felt as though I was re-living the very moment, pain included. I shook my head, now sensing the gold around me. The same gold I stole from those bastards. As if a navigation system was placed into me, I find my bag and pick it up, it weighs nearly nothing. Ghosts are extremely strong in their senses, both physical and mental, as 'Management' said. Anger flushed through my veins and I felt the presence of the three men who were responsible for my death, for the murder.  
  
Death and the blood of their victims flew throughout the bodies of the men. The scent of my own destruction was felt amongst the several innocents. They'd sinned before, there was no question of maybe, they were damned. I pictured clearly where they were hiding and then it came to me. I felt my body materialize into nothing but air, I felt light as a feather as my skin grows numb. Keeping my eyes open, I see the storage room become like that of a dream, slowly vanishing into nothing but white.  
  
Darkness then appeared with my vision and slowly I could make out the blur of three figures standing around a blinding yellow light. The gold. They brought every single piece of it onboard. They were planning an escape of their own, wanting to get away and start a new. But I wouldn't have it, not for what they did to me, revenge was on the brink of my mind. Not letting myself be seen, I appear fully intact as though I were still solid, expect with exceptions. No one alive could see me. Scurrying over the gold like locusts, they angrily cussed. "We have to tear up the fucking boat in order to find that gold!"  
  
"That idiot could have hidden it anywhere for all I know, maybe even threw it into the ocean."  
  
"he needed the money, even said so himself."  
  
"Okay and that gets us nowhere."  
  
"We'll find it, even if everyone on this boat has to die because of him."  
  
Remembering I had my bag, I threw it into the middle of them, causing the men to jump back in shock. "What the hell was that?" The brother yells, turning to my direction. His eyes grow wide, seeing me in full effect. I let myself be seen. "Shit!"  
  
"We.killed you?"  
  
"The devil sent him back!"  
  
I let out a twisted grin upon my mouth, if only they knew. I did come back, but with a purpose. A reason to reclaim the fate I was given, my revenge. The youngest comes at me, gun loosely in his hand. With one twitch of my eye, it easily comes to me. One of my better powers, the negative force of moving objects without touching, a special attributes that few ghosts had. He recoils back, a piece of the gun clipping his palm. The two just gawk and don't do anything.  
  
Now does the gruff voiced one come in and defend his clan, a gun in his hand as well. The only way to defend themselves, those weaklings. Pulling his trigger, I do the same, both sending the bullet for one another and getting a direct hit. Me in my chest and him in his neck. Leaping back, I feel blood seeping down my shirt and a great amount of pain. It's not deep, not fatal. I'd never be killed again. On the other hand, Mr. show off here is dying.  
  
He clutches at his throat, trying to keep the blood in, but does no good as it clearly leeks through the crevasses of his hand. Unable to breathe, the blood oozes slowly from his mouth, gasping for air. Struggling, he reaches for me, begging for life. It's ironic when you see your murderer asking to live, pleading to not die. He falls face first as I take a step back, keeping my face on his body, watching him slowly die. holding up the gun, I taunt to two survivors, but no one moves. I've scared him, made them afraid of me. I laugh.  
  
What a wonderful feeling having this much power and control. I am invincible, a god. If you call this gift godly. Walking towards them, I drop the gun. I'd find better ways to kill these men. The young one gets up, still holding onto his hand and becomes defensive. "What are you?"  
  
"You'll find out soon enough," I let him know, as he watches my chest wound heal.  
  
I glance down and feel the pleasure of my skin coming back together. It feels sensational as the pain goes away, the blood dissolving and the bullet dropping out of my body onto the floor. I won't call healing painful, it's more than that. The one spot of my whole body tingles in a degree of satisfaction. The hole in my body and my shirt were fixed, there was no sign of an injury anywhere. Frightened, the boy grabs for anything to defend himself with, but comes up short and gives up.  
  
The big brother comes charging at me with his knife, I can feel him and hear his motivations. Quickly enough, I grab his arm and recoil it back to where the blade touches his own chest. This causes him to stop dead in his tracks and cry out in pain just as the dagger pierces deeply into his soft heart. He was a strong guy but nothing compared to what I can do to him. As his artery was penetrated, he coughs out blood, his eyes dilating and dies.  
  
Releasing his hand he falls to his side, blood now soaking the carpet. I turn my gaze to the youngest, who now has a pistol in his hand. I literally role my eyes and give him a smile. I lunge out, all the force in my body coming towards him, but a sound echoes into the back of my brain and the pain I feel erupting into my head is enough to cause one to stop attacking. He'd shot me dead on in my head and I plummet to the floor, my body hitting hard on the floor. I grow unconscious, not seeing a thing after the red carpet.  
  
My first intent is that I'd been screwed over. That 'Management' lied to me. That bitch fooled me, but no it didn't. as I healed, flashes of my life projected throughout my dreams. I re-lived the most painful parts of my childhood into adulthood that I'd had. But I soon came to, vision now flushing into my eyes. A womanly figure leans over me, concern on her face.  
  
"He's alive!" She turns and quickly yells to another. I sit up quickly blinking. The woman holds me steady. The youngest member was gone, but his two friend's were still on the floor, they're bodies exactly how I left them. "I don't understand."  
  
"What don't you?" I speak, saying lines as if in a play.  
  
"You were bleeding from the head and now you seem perfectly fine. Am I seeing things?" The poor redhead is confused.  
  
"What happened here?" I say, ignoring her examination.  
  
"These people came onboard claiming that they were from the Mafia and that someone had they're gold. They then began killing those who wouldn't answer the questions. Even innocents who were nearby, were murdered. But why would they kill their own people?"  
  
"He killed them, and while trying to get the last, he failed," the other figure steps into play, pointing a finger at me.  
  
"Is that true?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
"That's a stupid and foolish thing to do. But why murder? Your just as bad as them now." "I'm worse."  
  
"What?" She grew worried, even stood up.  
  
"What can I say, it's a job."  
  
"I don't know what you mean," she speaks, stepping back a little.  
  
I moved my eyes, the chandelier just above the older male comes crashing down upon him. He doesn't make a sound as the shards of glass spill all throughout the room once it's hit hard with solid ground. My accuser had been crushed and the room had now filled with shards, it was nearly impossible to miss a piece. The redhead screams at the sight of her dead friend.  
  
"Why? What do you want?"  
  
"Your death."  
  
She's backed into a wall, her feet crunching on the glass every step she took. I appear to her just as her eyes turn in my direction. Grabbing onto her neck, she gasps, eyes widening and fear upon her face. I lean closer now, my lips slowly touching hers until the wetness of both mouths meet one another. Passionately, I begin to kiss her, my tongue slowly making it's way into her mouth. Guiding my way, I feel her tongue and we touch. She goes along with it, not struggling, but tears stroll down her face,  
  
My right hand begins to caress her slender body, making its way from her thigh to the very tips of her breasts. Releasing my mouth, I squeeze tighter on her neck, my other hand massaging her chest. I'm enjoying this, but the girl here does not, she'd enjoy this more if I wasn't murdering her. Twisting my hand, her neck does the same, the bones cracking, a sick sound of them breaking into tons of pieces.  
  
The expression on her face remains the same as when she realized the truth. I let her go, and her body stays frozen against the wall, her position non-moving. It was as though she were frozen in time. Everything seemed normal to her, expect for the purple color exposed on her neck and the redness of the broken bones.  
  
Many passengers were dead, as I could feel their deaths throughout the entire boat. Few were alive and I planned to rid them all. Most bodies were thrown overboard by the Mafia group and there weren't hundreds of humans onboard, but enough for many souls to be lost. Growing completely raged, I began massacring anyone I could sense, everyone on the boat would be dead if they weren't already.  
  
Not caring about anyone of the leftovers, I murdered with revenge on my mind. I gleefully went on about my job as though it were a gift from heaven. When I heard the deadly whisper fill my head is when I knew I had done something wrong. Through all the chaos, and massive body counts, I forgot to mark the souls of the passengers. The Earth shattering voice entered the very center of my soul and that's when I knew I'd done something wrong.  
  
Maybe it was for a good lesson though, I assured myself, feeling more idiotic. Luckily, I had been correct, but was warned that this was my only practice and next time around I'd better use the skills given to me. I wouldn't disappoint my boss and I know it was eager to be free from its hell. After the lecture, I collapse on the floor, my brain thumping with a terrible pain. Every Goddamn time I have a conversation with 'management' I always end up in pain, I think it enjoys sending fear to those under the power.  
  
As a punishment, I was forced to stay onboard the "Lorelei" accompanied by no one except the deathly silence of the boat swarming with death. No one was around to talk to and I'd be bored out of my mind, I was definitely being played a fool. Countless hours passed by in the quiet and I spent my time ridding the bodies because there was nothing else to do on this death ship but wait for the next boat to come by. Whenever that would be, now I know how my boss feels at times.  
  
Cursing at myself about not collecting my interest, I headed into the steering room and glaze out into the daylight. There was no point in driving the ship myself, for I had no idea to steer such a thing and I highly doubt I'd do any good on my own. It had officially been about a week of madness, before any live soul came onboard the Lorelei and I counted the days on my fingers wishing and waiting for someone to come. Imagining about my experience, I wondered what would happen if I screwed up again.  
  
Drifting into another realm, or the place I like to call sleep, though I never need it, I found myself slowly waking up to the sound of footsteps approaching my way. "It's the only body we've found on this ship," the deep accented voice spoke.  
  
I could swear he'd been speaking Italian, but I didn't know a single word in that language. "Fuck me!" he continues, "this ones actually alive!"  
  
"What?" Another one spoke and both feet pounded towards me.  
  
I saw them approaching, one holding what I believe was a camera in his hand. My theory was correct as a blinding white light surrounded my vision and I blinked in confusion. Once things were cleared I saw men staring down at me. "Please don't do that again," I complained and he nodded his head.  
  
"You speak Italian?"  
  
Ah, so I was right. I'd somehow been able to understand different languages. "A little," I lied.  
  
"Tell us what happened here and how you're the only one alive."  
  
"I.don't remember," more lies.  
  
The oldest sighed and figured I'd had a rough night, "Get him to the Antonia Graza. We'll help him there."  
  
The cabin boys nod and help me to my feet. "Gold." I sputtered.  
  
"What?" the youngest asks.  
  
"They found something.I remember.It being gold. I don't know anymore."  
  
He looks at me, not sure if to believe the blabbering idiot, and then to the leader. "Check the whole boat, see if there's anything valuable onboard."  
  
I give a small smile. They'd find the gold. I could easy hand it out on a silver platter. I'd left it in the room in which it was contained. Ah, the joys of being that in the afterlife. How easy it is to confuse the living, how greedy for riches they are. Their guilt plays a big part in the gold, well that and I couldn't have done it without the help of the big boss.  
  
Putting my right arm over his shoulder, a buff man begins helping me to the outside bow. I'd surely be able to walk on my own, but I didn't want to cause any speculation to this already strange situation. Being led to the upper deck I hear cheers from the crew, I knew they found it and soon their souls would be mine for the collecting. I laugh and Mr. Buff looks at me.  
  
"It's nothing, just glad to be off of this ship."  
  
We carefully step across the gap of water and onto the solid mass of the new surface. I could feel a new aurora of people and it satisfied my very needs. There had to be over 500 passengers, each and everyone containing a sin in their pasts. This would be a great victory for me and even satisfy the higher power.  
  
"The Antonia Graza. A beauty, ain't she?"  
  
"Indeed," I speculate and see dozens of figures looking at me, but one in particular standing out.  
  
A tall, dark-haired Italian woman watches me, fascination in her dark brown eyes and a cigarette in her mouth. She sees me stare back and replies with an unsatisfied smirk, she seems unhappy to what has come to the bow of the cruise ship. She'd become a good accomplish. Disappearing inside, the woman leaves and we soon follow. Where I was heading, the only hospital onboard. 


	3. Parte Tre: Morte A bordo Del Anotnia Gra...

Parte Tre: Morte A bordo Del Anotnia Graza

"A miracle!" The nurse stated. "This man should be dead, yet I see quick advances to his healing."

How clueless these people truly were. Sitting in the hospital, I wait, letting the nurse tend to my soon completely healed wounds. Several visitors came, wondering who and what the crew had rescued and how I had been the only survivor of the doomed Lorelei. How soon they would all find out. Voices rushed inside my head. "Don't fail me Ferriman,' it said, 'and don't forget your mission, or dare I send you back to where you were destined to be.'

The nurse grew furious and shooed away the curious shipmates, and I couldn't thank her anymore. I didn't want to get to know anyone personal until they were mine, but when I saw those luscious brown eyes and big pouty lips, I insisted the nurse let her in. There was something about this women that attracted me to her so.

"Ciao," she politely introduced herself. 'Do you speak Italia no?"

"A little," I replied, not sure if she spoke English.

"You may call me Francesca," her thick Italian accent spoke through her English words.

"Jack..." I began, but was cut off.

"Yes, yes. Mr. Jack Ferriman. The hero, the soul survivor of the Lorelei. The only one to escape death. Please tell me, how'd you do it?"

She raised her hand and I gently took a hold of it, kissing the upper part of her palm with my lips. Her sense had me on the brink of ecstasy. Her aroma was so mysterious and full of greed, I had to have her. "How did I do it?" I laugh. "I'll tell you soon enough."

She gave me a wicked smile, "When is this soon enough?"

Curious little one wasn't she. 'They'll find the gold sooner or later.'

'They're going to want it all to themselves.'

I could hear their thoughts, the worry they had over the great find. It was already starting to corrupt them. The cursed gold was taking its effect on the crewmembers. It was perfect and in no time, every six hundred of The Antonia Graza's passengers would be dead and their soul belonging to me.

"Mr. Ferriman?" Francesca spoke quickly, snapping me out of my trance.

"How about now?" I look at her, menacing eyes gazing into hers.

She quickly moves onto another subject. "I would have never imagined someone with your wounds and nearly escaping death, would leave one as calm as you."

"Maybe I'm in shock," I joke.

"Perhaps," her brown eyes gleamed. I could tell she didn't quite trust me. "So tell me Mr. Ferriman..."

I cut her off, "Call me Jack please."

"So Jack, tell me about the gold. How did it come to be on your ship?" The greed was starting to show through her. Like the others, Francesca too wanted a piece of the cursed item.

"It belonged to some shipmates."

"Yes, but how did they get the gold? It can't be legal now can it? Your hiding more than what you're telling me," her voice purred as she leaned in closer. "You can tell me, I won't tattle."

I couldn't tell her everything too soon into the game. "I only know what I've told everyone else, it was blood money. Gold owned by a gang who were so paranoid about the people on the ship, that they killed almost everyone onboard. I was attacked and left for dead."

Francesca curls her lips, "Interesting, very odd indeed. People work in mysterious ways, wouldn't you agree?"

I doubt what I just said to her made any sense. Something about the way she said those last words intrigued me. They were so devious and full of un trust, that I wanted her to say more. See what she had to say about me.

"I suppose I must be going then Mr. Ferriman."  
  
'Please, call me Jack."

"Jack. I have to leave now. You need your rest and I need to rehearse for my performance tomorrow night."

So she was a performer. Perhaps Francesca would be of use for my plan. "Perhaps I could watch you practice before your big show?"

Her eyes lit up with fascination and she smiled, "I never let anyone watch me before and besides you're in too much pain to be out of the hospital."

My smile fades. She was playing the hard to get game with me. I was lusting for a piece of that body now, desiring to feel the inside of her, feel the warmth between her legs. I wanted to explorer the hidden parts of her soul, dig deeper within to search for the secrets she was hiding.

"Maybe now's a good time to let someone in on your secrets?"

She looked at me, her eyes wide with surprise, "What do you mean by that?"

"Couldn't you at least have one pre show, just for the survivor?" I smiled.

"Maybe, maybe just for you Jack."

Getting up on her heals, she turned to leave, but stopped and faced me once more. "Get well Jack Ferriman," Francesca spoke, her face filled with brightness. "You're an interesting person and I'd like to see more of you."

She blew a kiss and left, shutting the door behind her. Indeed, I too wanted to see her again, I needed her now. Not just for my plan, but I felt an attachment to this Italian women. A connection was established between us and her evil ways were lingering closer to me. Soon she'd be in my grasp. I had to have her. I had to touch, to see, to feel what Francesca was hiding.

Exhausted, but not tired, I realized I hadn't rested well in some time. The dead do not need sleep, but for some reason, I desired for a long sleep that I used to have when I was human. Once tended to again for the tenth time that night, I waited till the nurse left and vanished into the surrounding air, my speculation on the crew grew bigger, as I could hear them plotting against everyone.

Lights off and most of the passengers asleep and tucked nice and safe in their cabins, I crept unseen, invisible across the dock and to the smell of greed. Following the trace of an unseen evil, I made my way into a storage deck where men of all European races talked.

The silhouettes of their figures were hard to see in the dark for any mortal, but I could see their very faces as a cat could see in the dark. "I'm telling you, the soul survivor of The Lorelei, he went through all four of those crates and made sure every bar of gold was still there," one voice spoke out.

"You know what kind of money we're talking here?"

A third voice pitched in, distant from the precious two. "Did you see him watching you?"

"No, I'm sure of it."

The first voice continued. "There's really only one way to do this. There's over six hundred passengers and crew on this ship. Six hundred witnesses."

"Extremely rich witnesses who treat us like garbage. Who'll be wearing everything they've go tomorrow night at the grand ball."

"We'll need half the crew to make this work."

"We've already run this by the assistant's skew ship. He's got five thousand gallons of rat poison that'd work in the first course."

"They'll never notice the difference until it's too late."

"And what about the captain and the first officers? They'll all be on the four decks with the VIPs and they hate Maine Curry's food."

"Got it covered with the ship's second engineer. He's rigged the foreword boom cable."

"In a way, we've got to be quick."

"Any survivors we finish in the pool."

"All right, are you in?"

A silent man's voice finally fills the air. "This is madness and it'll never work. No, I won't do it."

They begin to speak in Italian, so that the fifth man won't be able to understand their conversation. "That's what we thought," the first man finally speaks in English.

One of the men quickly takes out a gun and shoot the fifth man in the head, the bullet makes its way into his skull and leaves a bloody exit wound. His body falls, blood sprayed out among the walls and table where a map has been placed. I'm impressed. Never did I think that these men could work so fast in setting up a massacre, but then again, when money and corruption are at hand, things will work quick.

Striding back with pleasure among my face, I walk along the cabins where the innocent passengers sleep. Unaware to the tragedy that awaits them, I smell the greed of these sinners and cannot wait for them to become a part of me. But there's something unpleasantly wrong in one of the decks. Something so repulsive that it makes me feel as though I'm going to be sick. Can something so pure and clean leave this feeling to someone whose purpose is to collect sinned souls? Can a pure soul actually exist on a ship full of rich, greedy humans?  
  
Shaking off that unwanted feeling, I follow the sense of that one brown-eyed Italian Francesca. Now that I know she exists, I can easily detect my way into her corridor. Dissipating into the air, I find myself in front of her bed, the sleeping beauty covered up, peacefully slumbering. Making my way over to her side, thoughts of what I can do with a sleeping mortal cross in my head. I could easily kill her now, but no, she's needed for a bigger purpose.

"Francesca," I whisper into her ear. The performer mumbles and churns in her sleep. I lean over, my face closing in on hers and place my lips patiently on hers, kissing quickly, my tongue slipping in and out of her mouth. Defenseless, this continues, my right hand caressing her shoulder, as it makes it's way down to her plump breasts. "You will help me," I speak to Francesca, my hand now making it's way down her stomach and onto her hips. I'd make sure she'd want to help, with or without her control, Francesca would be my Queen in this game of Chess.

The next morning, I woke to the sound of a busy nurse, even more confused to what was happening to me. "How, how is it possible? A mere man cannot heal over the night."

"I'm no mere man," I lazily respond, waking out of a useless sleep.

She looks at me stunned, but then breaks out in laughter. "Your wound wasn't as sincere as I thought it to be. Must be my old age getting to me."

Keep telling yourself that until you learn the real truth. I get up, legs stretched over the bed and stand upright, walking out the door. The nurse looks at me, about to give me a lecture on not to move, but I glare at her with such evil, that she dares not say a word and let's me leave. So pathetic, these humans. Afraid to what real evil is. Onto the ship's deck I walk, people glancing at me, wondering why I'm out and looking healed. That's when I spot a little girl. Full red hair, a blue dress and big pink lips.

Something about seeing this girl makes me feel sick and then I remember that feeling I had last night. The nauseous feeling of a pure soul. She looks happy, dancing in what seems to be a precious dress to her, as she stares at me and smiles. I cringe on the inside and turn away, unable to let her good inside. That's when I bump into the woman who I was looking for; Francesca.

"Jack!" She yells in excitement, "Just the man I wanted to see. Come, come!"

I'm forced in her grasp, as she drags me through numerous people and down into the ballroom. She let's go of my hand and paces into the stage, striking an elegant pose, looking stunning. "You look much better," she examines.

"I told you I'd be."

Placing her hands upon her hips, Francesca stares at me. "I had a dream about you Mr. Ferriman. A very good dream, but I'm curious about these dream images I had."

"What about?"  
  
She smirks, "If I told you, they wouldn't come true now would they?"

I smile, knowing exactly what she had seen. "Why did you bring me down here?"

"You said you wanted to see me rehearse, am I correct?"

"Yes."

"Then I will show you."

Slowly, she began to walk down the stairs from whence she stepped up on. Moving seductively, I watch, enjoying that she's finally given into my ways. Francesca approaches me, her breath now on my cheeks. I know what she's going to do, but playing with her head, I act confused. "It's a bit early isn't it?"

"Do you want to know my dream. I dreamt you and me were one. A part of each other and indestructible to whatever came in our way," she nibbled on my lower lip, like a beast unable to contain her lust.

"I lied to you," I bluntly speak out.

"How so?" She responded, her fingers upon my shirt, slowly unlatching the buttons.

"It wasn't a gang."

"I had a feeling," she smiled and placed her tongue gently across my exposed chest.

"I stole the gold from the people onboard the Lorelei. I killed to make sure it was never in their grasp again, but the ship hit something and people fled, only I, I knew that someone would come, someone like you. I need your help Francesca. The men on this ship want the gold. They're going to kill me and anyone else who wants it. But me and you, we can get away. Just the two of us. Will you help me?"

"You need not say another word Jack. I'll help you with whatever you need."

It was the perfect plan. Francesca fell into the trap, so desperate to be loved and rich, that she'd do anything to gain it. After we made love and I gathered her deeper secrets, I left her to practice for the greatest performance ever and prepared myself. Walking into some unexpected couple's room, I threw the young man against a wall, his body smashing against the steel plank. The grinding sound his bones made as it impacted against metal made me smile as the women whimpered, about to scream. I grabbed her before she was able to make a sound and quickly broke her jaw.

Alive, but injured, she crawled on the floor, watching as I crouched down and marked my first victim. As the burning of my mark was implanted into the body, I felt his soul escape and his will becoming one with mine. It was almost orgasmic the way his flesh had began to mend with me. Moaning, I quickly turned to look at the girl who make her way to the door, a pile of blood following. "Sorry, but not in this life," I spoke and stepped on her back, the backbone breaking.

No sound emerged from her voice, as she lay motionless. Now knowing what I was put back on Earth for, I marked my second victim. No longer a rookie, I was fully aware of what my duties were. Management was very pleased this time. Walking over the dresser, I found a suit that seemed just about my size, the perfect costume. Fitting myself into the dead man's clothing, I made my way to where the final party would be for the night. I grew sick of the stares yet again, but kept my cool for soon they'd all be dying or dead. I imagined the horrible ways of how they'd soon die. Six hundred people lying in a puddle of intestines and blood. I couldn't be more happier.

Up on the main deck I appeared. Everyone was there, including the ones speaking the previous night. Indeed, the massacre was going to happen soon, and Francesca was the start point. Soon enough, there she was, smiling and looking gorgeous in her red dress. A dress that she'd wear for eternity.

"Senza Finé," she sang, the crewmembers setting up the trap to those clueless. I watched as that same redheaded girl was dancing with the captain, she seemed so happy, not scared, and not worried about her everlasting stay. Then Francesca smiled and I knew it was my time to leave, for soon body parts would be on the dance floor. I smiled back and walked out slowly, waiting for the sound of wire slicing through flesh. Already down below, the crew was doing their job; attacking, murdering and destroying human life. What a job it was going to be for me to mark them, but it was my job, my profession.

It had been done. The cable wire was set off and confused as they were, the mere humans stood in confusion as they began to full apart. I could see what was going on without having to actually watch the chaotic scene. Blood poured, body parts were detaching and the insides of many spewed onto the floor. But the horror wasn't over yet, for they were still alive even when they hit the floor. Suffering. That's the best way to go. A scream was heard and I watched as that brat ran away from the scene, looking for help. Francesca was already gone and ready to finish off the ringleader, but I stay and wait for my turn.

The pure soul ran past me, almost stopping and asking for help, but thought otherwise as I gave her a glare of pure hatred. I would have killed that bitch if I could, but just the thought of touching her made me die over again. No need, the others would kill her soon, then perhaps I could claim her. I heard and felt the dying pleas of many as I marked the souls one by one. Few were left alive, but they'd be finished off in the pool, and I knew that soon it would just be Francesca and me.

Vanishing into the air, I followed to where Francesca had walked and watched her unseen, as the men opened the crates of gold and cheered, they'd won. But they too were betrayed as their ringleader shot every one of them down, leaving just him and my beloved Francesca. Too bad for him, he was betrayed just like his men. She killed him in cold blood, a smirk upon her face. Francesca had done it, she'd finished them off and now we could get away together.

I appeared, letting myself be seen, as see looked over to me, proud of what she'd done and ready to be fucked again. But I had other plans for her, she wanted to be with me forever, she would. Kissing her, I pulled away as if disgusted and let the anchor do the killing for me. The look in her eyes, told me that I had done my job. She knew I was playing her for a fool, she knew she too was betrayed just like everyone else. I watch as she swings back and forth, her neck now a piece of the anchor, and wait for her to die. I have no sympathy for her, I do not mourn, I wait as she slowly passes onto the next level of death and mark her.

They're all dead, my job is only half done. Now comes the fun part. I turn around and disappear into the darkness, ready to claim my collection.


End file.
